


Before His Time

by Prism_Streak



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Human AU, I promise the whole story won't be like this but this one is rough, Listen guys when I say major character death I mean it, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prism_Streak/pseuds/Prism_Streak
Summary: In one night, Tugger's entire world is changed forever.
Relationships: Demeter & Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Jemima & Rum Tum Tugger, Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Munkustrap & Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	Before His Time

**Author's Note:**

> This one was beta'd by my wonderful friend DelukahDo! His writing is amazing, and you can and should go read it to recover from the garbage fire that is this story.
> 
> I know I have other things I need to update on here. I know I know I know I know. But they were all so happy, and I just couldn't bring myself to come up with anything for them. hopefully this angst is out of my system, and I can get back to my more serious, long term projects.
> 
> THAT SAID. This will be a series. Most of it will be incredibly fluffy, this should be pretty much the only sad installment. (It isn't listed as a series yet because I don't have a name for it.) It will update someday.
> 
> A couple clarifications: Misto and Tugger do NOT live with Munk and Demeter, they just spend a lot of time at their house. And Deuteronomy is the family name, Old Deuteronomy isn't their father's actual, legal name. it's just an old nickname that stuck.
> 
> Edit, because I forgot: All the movies at the beginning are real. Look them up.

It was nine pm when Tugger got the call.

He and Mistoffelees were watching a movie in their living room. They were settled in for a night of the worst monster movies they could find- Mega Shark vs. Mecha Shark, Cowboys vs. Dinosaurs, and the aptly named Big Ass Spider. They had blankets, popcorn and candy, and more pillows than Tugger had been aware they owned. A nice, quiet night to themselves, no work or friends demanding their attention. 

So of course Tugger's phone rang, just as the action in the second movie was picking up. He _really_ didn't want to pick it up, he was having a good time uninterrupted. Mistoffelees, however, didn't agree. After two rings he elbowed Tugger gently, and nodded in the direction of the phone.

"You should probably pick that up."

"It's fine." 

"What if it's a work thing? Or your dad?"

He was right, of course. Tugger's father had never quite gotten the hang of texting, and still called unannounced to speak to his son. And since they saw each other often, it was usually for a reason. Tugger sighed, and disentangled himself from the layers of blankets. He made his way into the kitchen, and eventually found his phone under the various snack wrappers littered about the table. It was about to go to voicemail, and the number was one he didn't recognize. Still, he'd come all this way, so he answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this… Rum Tum Tugger Deuteronomy?" The voice on the other end of the line was professional, and calm in a way only people who are trained to be professional and calm can be. 

"Yes." 

"You're listed as an emergency contact for Munkustrap Deuteronomy." 

Tugger's stomach sank. There was no reason for anyone to call him about Munk, not unless something had happened. And even then, shouldn't they have called Demeter first? Unless…

They'd been out on a date tonight. That was why Tugger and Misto weren't eating dinner with them, it was a date night and they'd gone to dinner. 

"I'm his brother. Is he alright?" He held his breath. He knew the answer to that question, but he didn't want to hear it.

"Mister Deuteronomy, your brother is currently in the intensive care unit at Mount Sinai Hospital. You may want to-"

"Yes, yes, I'm on my way. I'm coming. Thank you." He hung up.

For a second he stared at the phone in his hand as the information sunk in. He had to move, had to get there as soon as he could, but he felt stuck. The ICU. He'd been texting with Munk not two hours ago, and something had happened, something to rob his brother of his senses, his agency, something that had landed him in _intensive care_. And there hadn't been a single word about Demeter. 

He was snapped from his reverie by a hand on his arm. Misto was looking at him concerned, reaching to gently pry the phone from his grip. Tugger stared back, trying to find a way to tell Misto what he'd just heard. But Misto knew him, knew every expression and every shift of his shoulders. He could tell that something was gravely wrong. Tugger once again thanked whatever higher power for bringing the man into his life.

"Babe… what's wrong?"

Tugger had to say it. He opened his mouth, but choked on the words before they even reached his throat. He swallowed and tried again.

"Munk's in the hospital… I have to go." 

It was the kick he needed to get moving. He rushed to the living room, and began to gather his things, anything he might need- his jacket, his wallet, a charger. Misto followed him, and immediately began gathering his own things. 

"I'm coming. What can I do to help?"

"Nothing, just- just be here and," he paused. "No. Wait. Call Tantomile, and tell her I'll give them an extra fifty each if they can stay overnight." 

Misto nodded, and pulled the girl's number up on his phone as they left their apartment.

Tantomile was Munk and Demeter's babysitter. She and her brother Coricopat were freshmen at the university Munkustrap taught at, and were in one of his classes. They were good kids, or must have been for Munk to trust them with his daughter. Jemima was only six months old, and the center of Munk and Demeter's world. They wouldn't leave her with anyone who was anything less than incredibly responsible and endlessly patient. From what Tugger knew of them Tanto and Cori were both, so he wasn't worried about them. Jemima would be alright.

Tugger found himself in the car, winding through the city streets on autopilot. Misto was talking, still explaining the situation to Tantomile, most likely. He couldn't hear the words, only registering the buzz of his fiance's voice in the background of Tugger's own heart in his ears. He counted the street signs, counted the minutes as they drew closer to the hospital where Munk was. He didn't remember finding it, didn't remember parking, but came to as Misto gripped his hand upon passing through the glass doors and into the harsh light of the hospital's waiting room. 

They talked to the receptionist. Misto talked to the receptionist. Tugger stared at the wall, and handed over his driver's license when asked. They were given a floor number, a room number. Family only the woman behind the desk said, with a pointed look at Misto. _I'm his brother-in-law,_ Misto said, _I'm family_ . The woman looked like she didn't believe him, but she let them go. They made their way through endless halls, countless elevators, or possibly only one of each. Tugger saw nothing, he _felt_ nothing, only the hole where his heart and stomach used to be before his brother lay unseeing and unfeeling in a hospital bed. The walls were the same, the floors were the same, until they were standing outside of the room they'd been directed to. Misto held his arm, clinging tight, and led him forward.

The room was full of doctors. Doctors and nurses, standing around the bed in the center. They all turned as Tugger and Misto entered, all watched as they sat down together on the small bench along one wall. Tugger could barely see Munkustrap's face through all the tubes, and he didn't know what the beeping of the thousand monitors surrounding him meant. From beside him, Misto spoke for both of them.

"What happened?" 

Tugger had to know. He had to know but he didn't think he could hear it, didn't think he could have the finality of knowing. What did it, how bad it was, what the outcome would be. He didn't want to hear anything, anything besides his brother's voice laughing with him again. He didn't want to see anything besides Munk and Demeter's smiles. No one had told him yet where Demeter was. Why she wasn't there.

"A car accident, a head-on collision. He was…" and Tugger didn't hear the rest. It was a list, a long, long list of everything in his brother's body that was failing, or had already failed. Damage beyond repair. Glass everywhere, in everything. It was all static, each word tearing Munkustrap farther and farther from Tugger's reach. After what seemed like hours, it was Misto speaking again.

"And… what about Demeter Deuteronomy? His wife. She was with him." 

Silence.

"I'm very sorry Mr. Jones. She was dead on arrival." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The room was still. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, the only sounds were the machines keeping Munkustrap alive. Barely alive. The machines were breathing for him, there was more blood in the tubes and bags than there was in him. He didn't breathe, and Demeter didn't breathe, and Tugger _couldn't_ breathe. He could vomit. He wanted to cry. He wanted to wake up, because none of it felt real. He couldn't imagine it. Life without Demeter in it. Munkustrap here, fed by tubes and surrounded by cold, unfeeling monitors and machines. Unable to see, or hear, or feel, not knowing when Tugger was there with him, not knowing that Demeter was gone. 

He was shaking. He was crying. Mistoffelees's arms were around him, and Tugger's shoulder was wet with his tears. His hands had found Misto's arm, and he was gripping it hard, too hard, if he didn't stop there would be bruises. But he couldn't make himself unclench his hand, couldn't make himself let go. The doctors were murmuring again, as quiet and incomprehensible as if they were underwater, drowning. Tugger was drowning. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't hear and he couldn't think of anything besides his brother, lying motionless and comatose in the hospital bed. He was six feet away, but there was nothing Tugger could do to reach him. 

The doctors said something to him, and left. He and Mistoffelees were alone now, alone with their brother and the thousand machines keeping him alive. Tugger's feet carried him to the bed without his consent, and sat him down on the edge. His hands took one of Munk's, without him telling them to. Misto was on the other side of the bed, holding Munk's other hand. Where Demeter should have been. 

Tugger couldn't speak. His mouth wouldn't open, his lungs wouldn't give him the air. There was nothing he wanted to say, nothing he could say out loud, that Munk didn't already know. Nothing that would actually help. He didn't pray, he had no one to pray to, but he begged. _Wake up. Wake up so that you can go home. Wake up so we can still be a family, so I can help you to bear Demeter's loss. Wake up so you can cry at my wedding, and Jemima's birthday, and her graduation, and at her wedding. I love you. I miss you. Please._

He watched his tears drip onto Munkustrap's hand, so cold and unresponsive. He heard Misto murmuring, brushing Munk's hair from his forehead and talking of nothing. Tugger wanted nothing more than to reach for his brother, to curl up against him and cling and cry like he had when they were children, but he couldn't. There were too many tubes, too many needles, too many things that could go wrong. Tugger didn't want them to go wrong. He knew it was probably naive, but he wanted to hope. To hope that Munkustrap would wake up, and that they would be alright one day. He had to. 

Mistoffelees let go of Munk's hand, and moved around to stand by Tugger. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he all but whispered

"I'm gonna go call your dad. Let him know what happened."

Tugger nodded, and Misto's hand disappeared. His footsteps left the room, and paced outside the door. His voice mumbled into the phone, and then he was back, holding Munkustrap's hand again. He didn't need to tell Tugger that Old Deuteronomy was on his way, that he would be here. As long as he was there, everything would be alright. Once again the room was claimed by the beeping of the machines, and the stillness of its human occupants. 

_Any moment now,_ Tugger wanted to think. _Any moment now Munk will open his eyes. He'll smile and say he's fine, even though we all know it to be a blatant lie. Soon he'll be talking again, scolding Bomba and I for being loud in the restaurant Demeter runs. Ran. He'll be devastated. He won't show it,_ Tugger thought, _but he will be_ . _He loves her so much._ The machines beeped and hissed, and there was nothing left in Tugger's mind. Nothing to say, nothing to do, but loose track of how long he'd been holding his brother's hand. How long since he arrived here, how long since the call. All he could see and feel was Munkustrap's hand, not moving. Not responding. It was so cold, everything was so cold.

And all at once, a cacophony of sounds broke through the stillness of Tugger's mind. One machine began to wail, another followed almost immediately, and another and another and another until they were all screaming their alarms for the whole ward to hear. Doctors flooded in and Tugger was pushed away, back to the bench while the voices of the doctors and the machines rang through the small room. It was chaos, an endless sea of white coats and painful noise and through it all Tugger couldn't see Munkustrap, what they were doing to him, what was happening. He couldn't get in the way but he had to know what was happening, what did each noise mean, what was happening to his brother-

And it all stopped. All the noise, all the movement, all the wailing of the machines. Everything was still, and silent. Truly, deafeningly silent. The beeping of the thousand machines did not resume. 

No.

No. No, no no no no!

Tugger was sure he was screaming it, on his feet before Misto could hold him down, by Munkustrap's side before the doctors could stop him. He took his brother's face in his hands, feeling for warmth, looking for anything, red cheeks or fluttering eyelids or a smile, but Munkustrap was still. The machines were still. No one spoke, or pulled him away. They let him cry, clinging to Munkustrap for dear life, as if his anguish could restart his brother's heart. But it didn't, it couldn't, and he felt Mistoffelees's hands on his back and his arm, trying to guide him away. He tried to hold on, did everything he could not to let go, to memorize his brother's face, broken as it was. But it couldn't last, and Misto led him back to the bench, and held him so that he didn't have to watch them take Munkustrap away.

They made their way back through the halls, both pale under the fluorescent lights. Misto was shaking, clutching Tugger's hand like he was afraid they'd be separated. Tugger didn't mind, didn't care, didn't feel anything but the growing emptiness inside him. Misto, he knew, was feeling the same, and he wished it would swallow them up, take them over so that the pain would never come. So that the part of his life that was missing Munk and Demeter would never come. It would be forever. He didn't want to spend forever that way, he only wanted his family back. 

As they turned into the last hallway before the lobby, they almost ran into another person. Misto apologized on instinct, over and over, while Tugger barely registered being yanked out of someone's way. But when he finally raised his eyes, looked at the person's face, some part of the panic he was feeling melted away.

"Dad." 

Mistoffelees looked up, and a second later they were both swept into Old Deuteronomy's arms. Tugger melted, all of the tension and pain and fear he'd been holding slipping from him in seconds, as he cried tears he didn't know he still had. He leaned into his father's embrace, and spent a few seconds remembering how to breathe evenly. His dad's coat smelled like his childhood home, and like their cat. He returned the hug, bunching the fabric up in his hands to try and stop them from shaking.

"Dad. Munk's gone." 

He felt, rather than heard his father begin to cry. His shoulders shook, and his arms tightened around Tugger and Misto, holding them close, as if he was afraid they'd disappear. He said nothing, but that in and of itself spoke volumes. He always had something to say, some new light to shed on any given situation. A way to help. Now there was nothing but silence. Not wanting to leave him in the dark, Misto spoke up.

"Demeter too. There was- there was a car crash." 

The three of them stayed in that hallway for a long time, holding onto each other. No one wanted to be the first to let go, none of them were ready to leave. But eventually, Old Deuteronomy pulled away, and set a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Thank you both for being here when I couldn't. You brought love to their last moments, which is the most important thing." 

Tugger nodded, lost for words. 

"Now, why don't you go and relieve those nice twins of their watch over Jemima. She'll need someone more permanent to look after her while everything is sorted out." 

Tugger nodded again, and Misto muttered a quiet _ok_ as Old Deuteronomy released them, and moved past them down the hallway. Tugger didn't know what he was hoping to find, but he knew it wasn't there.

* * *

They pulled up in front of Munkustrap and Demeter's house just as the sun rose. Tugger let them in, with the key Demeter had given him not two years ago, when they'd moved in. It was a house meant for a family, she'd said, and Tugger was family. The entrance way was dark, and there were no sounds of movement within. The reason became obvious when Tugger spotted Coricopat sprawled on the couch, and Tantomile curled up in the recliner. Both fast asleep. 

He left Misto to make everyone breakfast, and made his way upstairs to Jemima's nursery. It was just as it had been the last time he'd been there, two days before. His niece was sleeping peacefully, unaware of anything that had transpired. She could barely sit up on her own, she wouldn't be able to understand why her mother and father had suddenly abandoned her. Why they no longer came when she cried. He'd tell her someday, but it would do nothing to lessen what she was about to go through. 

He went back downstairs, careful not to wake any of the sleeping children in the house. When he got to the kitchen, Misto was moving around quietly, making pancake batter with practiced ease. Tugger joined him, fetching the pan and butter they'd need, and lighting the stove. The batter was ready, and for a minute they just stood and watched the butter melt, out of busywork to preoccupy them. 

It was sinking in. There were no more tears to cry, no more words to shout, but the house was suddenly very empty, despite the addition of the two teenagers asleep in the living room. There was a baby monitor on top of the fridge, and by this time of morning Demeter would be shushing them to listen through it, in case Jemima woke up. Munkustrap would have told Tugger to get down from the counter three times and counting. 

But nothing was said. There was no conversation, no joy or familial warmth as Tugger poured the first pancakes into the pan. Even as Misto's arms wrapped around him from behind, held him close even though he had to keep an eye on the pan, something was missing. The places Munk and Demeter fit into their lives were now gaping holes, ripped open again and again with every new, minute absence. All through breakfast, over which they had to explain what had happened to Coricopat and Tantomile, they could feel the pauses in the conversation where Munk and Demeter would have interjected. The jokes that weren't being made, the playful arguments that weren't being had.

When the teenagers left to return home, Tugger and Misto retreated to the living room, to wait for Jemima to wake up. They lay on the couch, watching sunbeams move across the ceiling and floor. Time had moved strangely for Tugger since the call, and now it slowed to a crawl, allowing him to soak in the silence of his brother's once lively house. It wasn't Munkustrap's house anymore, he supposed. It was his or Bomba's or his father's, whoever Munk and Demeter had decided would need it the most. Everything that had once been Munkustrap's would have to be passed on to someone else. 

His hands had found Misto's hair, and as he brushed his fingers through it he thought of his father. How unlike Tugger, he was alone in this. He didn't have anyone to grieve with him, to comfort him, not the way Tugger did. True, Misto too would grieve for the family they both lost. But he would be there for Tugger, as Tugger would be there for him. Old Deuteronomy lived alone. 

"You know," he said, looking down at Misto's head, which was all he could see at his angle, "I feel bad for Dad."

"Why?" 

"He already raised three kids alone, and now he's going to have to do it again."

At this, Misto looked up at him, confusion written all over his face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Jemima. She doesn't have anyone else to go to, and he loves her too much to let someone else take her anyway. But he's getting older, y'know, and… he still misses Mom, and I think he's gonna see a lot of her in Jemima." 

At this, Misto only grew more confused.

"I thought you were listed as godfather in their wills?" 

"Yeah. But you don't want kids." 

Silence descended back over them like a curtain. Misto lay back down, resting his head on Tugger's chest, and Tugger's fingers returned to his hair. The sunbeams moved across the floor, marking the times they should have been awake, out the door, at work. They lay together in the stillness, letting it pass by. They would have to get used to the silence. 

"You know," Misto said, after a while "when I said I didn't want kids, I was thinking… I'm not a very... nurturing person. I've never had a strong desire to be a parent, and I'm afraid if I had kids just for the sake of having them I'd fuck them up in some kind of colossal way, because being a dad isn't exactly my dream in life." He sighed, and fiddled with the ring on Tugger's hand, the one that wasn't preoccupied with his hair. Tugger raised an eyebrow.

"But?"

"But now, this isn't some hypothetical child I'm taking a chance on just by bringing them into the world. It's Jemima, I know her already. She's not just some nameless, faceless what-if that reflects all the things that could go wrong, she's a whole tiny person. And I know whatever kid we had would be too, but… it's different. I never really wanted kids, and I still don't. But I want Jemima." 

Part of Tugger, the part that was still the same guy he'd been last night, jumped for joy. He loved Mistoffelees, and he loved Jemima. He'd always wanted a family, and if Misto wanted that to be the two of them and ten cats instead of children, he would have been fine. But there was a part of him that _did_ want kids, and that part was doing somersaults. 

But that part of him was very far down, hidden away and crushed beneath the fact that it was _Jemima_ , his niece. And that the only reason he would get the chance to have her was that her father and mother were dead. It was still a strange thought, one that didn't feel quite right. Nonetheless he would have to get used to it. He _had_ a brother. _Had_ a sister-in-law. But his family remained, even as it changed.

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that to make me happy?"

"Tugger, when have I ever said anything just to make you happy?"

"...touche." 

Misto smiled. 

"She's my niece too, you know. I'm nowhere near as enthusiastic about babies and kids as you are, but I do love her." 

Tugger knew that. He knew that even though Misto was more than a little put off by babies and toddlers he was trying with Jemima. And he knew Misto felt he owed it to Munkustrap, who had been one of his best friends. And to Demeter, of course. 

Tugger knew that Munkustrap had loved him. He knew that he'd never judged his career choice, or his choice of partner, or even his fashion choices. Poked fun, but never truly judged. He knew that Munk had been proud of him, despite there being precious little to be proud of at times. But now, he decided, he was going to give Munk something to be proud of. If there was some sort of afterlife, if Munk really was watching him, Tugger promised. He was going to be the best dad he possibly could to Jemima, since Munk barely got the chance. And he would make sure she knew who her father and mother had been, and that they had loved her very much. 

* * *

Mistoffelees took care of all of the funeral arrangements. He insisted that Tugger take the time to learn about taking care of an infant, and that no parent should ever have to plan their child's funeral. Although he consulted them on every important decision, he dealt with all of the paperwork and phone calls himself. 

The funeral was almost a week later, on the next Saturday. It was chilly and grey, and wind whipped through the streets of the city, and through the graveyard where the service was held.

Tugger wore his leather jacket over his suit, knowing that Munk and Demeter wouldn't have minded. They'd have thought he looked funny, and demanded he pose for ridiculous pictures (which he would have happily done.) He held Jemima throughout the service, an hour of readings and eulogies. He watched as one by one his friends and family took the podium to speak about Munkustrap and Demeter, and how wonderful they'd been. 

Alonzo. Bombalurina. Jellylorum. Mistoffelees. Each spoke from their heart, dragging up happy memories and funny stories that they wanted to remember Munk and Demeter by. With each speaker, the pit in Tugger's stomach grew.

Finally it was his turn. He was meant to hand Jemima to Mistoffelees when he had to go up and speak, but he found he couldn't let her go. She was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and hadn't fussed once the entire time. So he brought her with him, and ignored the confusion on his family and friends' faces. 

He introduced himself, and introduced Jemima. Standing there, facing the small crowd in attendance, he realized he only knew about half of them. There were faces he didn't recognize, most likely from Munk's school and Demeter's restaurant who all cared enough to come and say goodbye. It never failed to astonish him how many people his brother knew, since Munk had always been so quiet and serious. Demeter had helped in that regard, but now… 

He had a notecard, full of bullet points reminding him of things he wanted to say. He'd written it two nights before, when Jemima had cried all night and he'd stayed awake to try and comfort her. There wasn't much he could do, as it wasn't him she was crying for. But he'd had to try. In the intervals, the half hours when she'd slept, he'd written out the notecard in an attempt to organize his thoughts. To not seem like as much of a mess as he'd become. 

Now, tears were threatening to spill again, and he couldn't read the notecard through them. The letters swam, and he realized it was barely more coherent than his thoughts were now. But he had to say something, something that wouldn't make him cry. Not in front of what felt like half the city. 

"When I was ten," he began, "I wanted to learn to play the bagpipes. God knows why, but all of a sudden it was my life's goal." This was one of those things, one of those periods that had changed Tugger's world forever. It was a good place to start. "Our dad… indulged me, I think," he attempted a smile at his father, "and our older brother laughed at me. For almost a week. But Munk actually encouraged me. He helped me find someone to teach me, and a way to save the money I'd need for the lessons. I think he regretted it later, when I stuck with it and insisted on playing Amazing Grace whenever something minor went wrong, but… he never stopped believing in me, and insisted that if that was what I wanted to do, he'd put up with it because it was important to me." Tugger took a deep breath. It was going to be a very long ten or so minutes.

"All through my life, everything was like that. If there was something I loved, he would support me in it, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. I always tried to do the same, but his dreams were a lot more realistic than mine, and didn't need as much faith put into them." Being a teacher was far more achievable than being a rockstar. But Munk had loved it, so Tugger couldn't find fault in such a mundane goal.

"I was probably part of the reason he was going grey before his time. He dealt with a lot of my shit so Dad wouldn't have to. At great risk to his own mental health I'm sure, but Munk was just like that," he took a deep breath, "he always put everyone else first. Without ever being asked, or encouraged to, even as a kid. Even when he was told to give it a rest and look after himself." 

"He loved everyone in his life, in a way I can only aspire to understand. His students, his friends, his family… we all made so much trouble for him, but he loved us all the same. He loved our mom, and our brother, even though they weren't around. He loved me, and he loved our dad, even though we… were never the easiest family to have. And," he glanced down at the sleeping baby in his arms. She was bundled against the cold, but she slept on, never squirming or crying. "He loved his wife, and his daughter. From the moment he laid eyes on Demeter, she was the center of his world." 

Tugger remembered it well. It had been a gallery event in Munk's senior year of college, and Tugger had gone with him to support a friend. She had been there for the same reason, and Munk had very rudely ditched Tugger to talk to her for an hour. He'd come away with her number, and the biggest smile Tugger had ever seen. They'd gone on a date, and another, and then another, and before Tugger knew it she was at every family dinner. 

"He never shut up about her. Not when he first met her, not when he moved in with her, or when he proposed, or when they got married. He always had something new to say, another thing he loved about her. But somehow it never got old, because it was Demeter." 

"She was… one of the most amazing people I've ever met. When she finished college she ran right out and did it all over again, just because she felt there were things she still didn't know. And after that, she decided she wanted to open a restaurant. And she just… did it. All she had to do was decide she wanted something, and she'd find a way to make it happen. She was smart, and driven, but she never let it get to her. She was _kind_ , and far more patient with everyone than I could ever comprehend. She took no shit, but she did it with a smile, and a please and thank you, it was incredible. In the eight years I knew her, we never fought once. There were times when we could have, but she just… found a way to resolve things instead."

"She was one of my best friends. I don't think she liked me when we first met, but… over time we found things to talk about. We liked the same music. Even though I was a stupid kid at first, she never dismissed me, she always listened, always wanted to help. She was smarter than me and I don't- I don't know what I'm going to do without her. Without both of them." 

The tears he'd been holding back refused to obey him any longer, and dropped down his face, onto the wood of the podium. He held Jemima to him, mumbling a small _thank you_ to the people listening as he rushed back to his seat. He passed his father on the way, who gave him a nod. He'd done alright.

He and Mistoffelees held each other through Old Deuteronomy's speech, Jemima between them, sheltered from the cold. He could feel them both shaking, both doing their best to look like they weren't crying. 

* * *

As the caskets were lowered, Tugger felt… hollow. The grave was right next to his mother's, and the headstone was already there. "Munkustrap and Demeter Deuteronomy," it read, along with their dates of birth and death. And then, "The greatest thing we can ever learn, is to love and be loved in return." They'd probably been half joking when they agreed on it, but even so it was what they would have wanted. Munk was such a theater person, he deserved no less than to be remembered by a cheesy musical quote. Mistoffelees had known him well, known he would have wanted that particular part of his will obeyed. 

There was no closure, no finality. Only the absence of two of the people Tugger loved most. His family was incomplete, and it felt as if part of him was missing, buried in the ground with his brother and sister-in-law. 

Misto was by his side, holding Jemima and explaining everything that was happening to her, so he didn't have to think too hard about it himself. Tugger wished he was more like Misto, that talking through something and understanding it on a practical level could help him. But it didn't. The only thing that could help was time.

* * *

Later, Tugger sat in the back seat of their car, watching the buildings pass by. Jemima was strapped in next to him, but had yet to wake up. It was just as well, she needed the rest. All that mattered was that when she woke, Tugger would be there for her. 

He'd silenced his phone sometime during the week, when it became clear that well wishers offering their condolences weren't going to leave him alone. But he went through it now, swiping away each notification without so much as a glance. Maybe he'd read them later, maybe not. The further back he got, the more texts and calls there were, all essentially saying the same thing: _I'm sorry, that really sucks_. The sentiment was nice, but it wasn't like he didn't know. 

Eventually, he reached Sunday night. He expected nothing, but found no less than thirty panicked texts and calls from Bomba, who'd been on the phone with Demeter when… everything happened. He felt a little bad for not getting back to her, but knew she didn't blame him. He read through her texts, watching them get less frantic the further back he went in time. When he closed out of their thread, he only had one unread message left.

From Munkustrap.

It was dated Sunday, an hour before he and Demeter had left for the night. Tugger had missed it in favor of… whatever they'd been doing that night, and almost wanted to leave it unopened. He didn't want to be faced with the reality of his brother's last words to him. But he couldn't stand never knowing. He didn't even remember what they'd been talking about, and he owed Munk at least that much. Taking a deep breath, he opened the conversation and began to read:

  
  


Sunday, December 3, 8:00pm

Tugger🎷: hey did dad ask you to watch his cat next weekend

Munk: Yes, why?

Tugger🎷: can i do it

Munk: I thought you had shows both nights?

Tugger🎷: yeah but can i do it

Munk: I suppose, if your schedule allows it

Munk: Why do you love his cat so much?

Tugger🎷: our landlord wont let us have one 

Tugger🎷: i have to live my cat owning dreams vicariously through dad

Munk: That's fair.

Tugger🎷: besides dont you have finals to prepare for or grade or something 

Munk: Unfortunately.

Tugger🎷: right so you need the extra time

Tugger🎷: just let me hang out with the cat and well tell dad you did it 

Munk: I don't think that level of sneaking around is necessary?

Tugger🎷: but its fun and we never get to do it anymore

Munk: Alright, you've convinced me. 

Munk: I do really need that time to work.

Munk: Thank you.

Tugger🎷: no prob

Munk: No really, you're a lifesaver.

Munk: I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't say I hope you enjoyed this because it's not enjoyable, but I hope I made you feel something!
> 
> Please come tell me what you thought, every comment makes my day, every single time.


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